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At first, I thought it was just part of being away from home. A new city, a new school Palm Crest International School sounded like a place to grow, to become something more. But it didn¡¯t take long before I felt something was wrong. Not with the school itself, but with what was happening to me inside it. Quiet things. Hidden things. The kind of shifts that don¡¯t come from mood or fatigue, but from deliberate outside interference.

I know this sounds impossible. I would have doubted myself too. But I can¡¯t anymore. Because I feel it every day. I am being interfered with my thoughts, my body¡¯s timing, even my emotions and this is being done by real operators, not AI, not noise. I¡¯m talking about units inside the Saudi Ministry of Interior and military-backed telecom divisions, using satellite-based systems to test something on students like me.

The voice started two months after I arrived. Not all the time just at moments when I was vulnerable. It never screams. It just states things. ¡°You don¡¯t decide anymore.¡± ¡°This one¡¯s compliant.¡± And then it fades. But my heart races like I¡¯ve been shouted at. I¡¯ve dropped things in class from the jolt.

Sometimes I¡¯ll forget what I was saying halfway through a sentence. I¡¯ll flinch when someone walks behind me, even if it¡¯s a classmate I know well. There¡¯s a corridor near the computer lab where I always feel static along my spine. The closer I get to the southeast gate, the heavier my head feels like a downward pull behind my eyes. I¡¯m not imagining this. I track it now. I write it down.

I can¡¯t talk to anyone about it. Not the teachers. Not the school psychologist. If I try, it¡¯ll become something worse a file, a report, a label. ¡°Unstable.¡± ¡°Delusional.¡± No one ever says ¡°targeted by internal defense structures.¡±

If I had known this was a risk, I would¡¯ve never come to Saudi Arabia. I left my home country for something international, something promising. I believed the marketing. I believed the world was smaller and safer. But it¡¯s not. It¡¯s silent, and dangerous, and very organized.

I¡¯ve started losing connection with people I care about. I feel distant even when I¡¯m sitting next to friends. It¡¯s like someone turned the emotional volume down inside me. On bad days, I feel like a drone moving, reacting, but not experiencing.

I¡¯m scared. But I¡¯m still here. And I needed to say it at least once.



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